


Mistletoe

by mysticanni



Series: Rubber Ducks [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Kissing, M/M, Matchmaking, Mistletoe, Party, Pining, Rubber Ducks, cocktails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22133719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Roger acts as a matchmaker for Crystal and Phoebe.
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Series: Rubber Ducks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593166
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from. 
> 
> I have in my head that Roger and John are in their late teens/early twenties and Phoebe and Crystal are a bit older.

Chester, England

Roger was following Phoebe around the kitchen like a clingy toddler. ‘Self-raising flour is like magic, isn’t it?’ Roger remarked as Phoebe retrieved a bag of flour from a cupboard. ‘The first people to use it must have thought it was witchcraft.’

Phoebe halted and looked around the kitchen. He gently grasped Roger’s upper arm, led him to one side and lifted him up, depositing him on one of the kitchen counters where he would be least in the way. ‘If you could just sit there, love...’ Phoebe murmured, wondering when Roger would get to the point of his visit. He hummed to himself as he gathered cake ingredients. 

‘What kind of cake are you making?’ Roger asked. 

‘A vanilla sponge,’ Phoebe replied, ‘my book club are meeting here tonight and it’s for them.’

‘Book club,’ Roger said thoughtfully, ‘what are you reading?’ 

Phoebe thought Roger was up to something but he couldn’t work out how his book club could possibly become embroiled in one of Roger’s schemes. ‘This is our end of year gathering,’ he explained, ‘we’re not actually discussing a book tonight.’

‘How many of you are there?’ Roger asked. 

He seemed suspiciously interested in the book club. ‘Five of us, including me,’ Phoebe replied as he lined a cake tin.

‘What kind of books do you read?’ 

‘Are you thinking of joining us, little treasure?’ Phoebe smiled, ‘We take it in turns to host the club and to suggest books. We meet once a month.’ 

Roger nodded, still looking thoughtful. ‘I could have baked for you,’ he noted.

‘You do enough baking at the cafe,’ Phoebe said, ‘and with your other job at the bar when would you find the time?’ He smiled at Roger, ‘Anyway, all of your free time at the moment is taken up by your love affair with Mr Deacon, isn’t it?’ Which begged the question: why was Roger currently in his kitchen? 

Roger blushed at the mention of John. ‘He’s in London just now,’ he sighed.

‘Is that why you’re keeping me company?’ Phoebe wondered. Was Roger lonely? He hoped they hadn’t had a quarrel. ‘It’s always lovely to see you, of course,’ he added hastily in case Roger felt unwanted. 

Roger sighed again. ‘John’s friend Brian is ill,’ he told Phoebe, ‘he collapsed while he was visiting his parents in London and he is getting better now but apparently at one point they thought one of his arms might have to be amputated. So John is staying down in London for Christmas and New Year. Understandably, of course: Brian needs his friends around him.’

‘Do you need time off to go down there?’ Phoebe asked, thinking that here, surely, was the reason for Roger’s visit.

Roger shook his head sadly. ‘I’d love to go down there but even if you can spare me at the cafe, New Year’s Eve is the busiest night of the year at the bar. Crystal offered to let me have time off too but I know he can’t really spare me and I’m not going to go.’

Phoebe frowned. Why was Roger here then? Perhaps he did just feel lonely and in need of someone to talk to. ‘Come to the book club gathering tonight,’ he suggested, ‘you’d be very welcome.’

*

Roger hoped he did not look horrified at the prospect of joining Phoebe’s book club. (Part of him thought it might be quite interesting but this was not really how he had intended this conversation to go.) ‘I’d love to,’ he responded brightly, ‘but I’m working tonight.’

Phoebe nodded absently, cracking eggs into a bowl. ‘You work too hard,’ he murmured. 

Roger grinned: this was a more promising conversational direction for his purposes. ‘That’s exactly what Crystal said,’ he informed Phoebe cheerfully, ‘so he’s closing the bar on the first Sunday in January and having some friends round to his house for a drink. You can make it, can’t you?’

*

Phoebe concentrated on folding his ingredients together in the mixing bowl so he had time to consider this. He could feel his cheeks growing hot and silently berated himself for practically swooning at the mere mention of Crystal. It was ridiculous having a crush on someone who barely knew he existed. A thought occurred to him. ‘Roger, does Crystal know you are inviting me?’

*

No.

‘It’s not really that sort of party, Phoebs,’ Roger assured him, ‘Just a little gathering of friends and Crystal will be delighted to see you.’ 

‘Well, I suppose it would be nice to have something to look forward to for after the festive season,’ Phoebe mused, ‘that’ll be on the fourth of January, then?’

‘The fifth,’ Roger said, ‘come over to mine first and we can go to Crystal’s together.’ That would mean Phoebe couldn’t change his mind at the last minute. Roger slid off the kitchen counter. ‘I’d best get ready for my shift. Enjoy your book club soiree!’

*

Roger left by the back door, leaving Phoebe with cold air swirling around him and flutters of nervous excitement in his stomach.

*

The bar was packed. Crystal listened happily to the cash registers chiming. Christmas tunes blared from the speakers. He watched Roger as he efficiently mixed cocktails: no movement wasted; poetry in motion. Their eyes met and Roger smiled. 

On Roger’s break he went outside for some fresh air. Crystal handed him a glass of water.

‘Thanks, Crystal,’ Roger gulped water gratefully. ‘There should be more New Year songs,’ he reflected. ‘They could be played during the ‘twixmas’ bit between Christmas and New Year and on New Year’s Eve, of course. But it’s all Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Crystal agreed, adding, ‘you okay, Waif?’ He was worried that Roger had not been quite his usual cheerful self since he had heard that John would not be able to spend Christmas and New Year with him. 

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Roger told him, ‘I know I’ll be exhausted later but all the energy in there,’ he gestured over his shoulder towards the bar, ‘is giving me a buzz just now.’ He bit his lip. ‘Um... Crystal?’

‘What’ve you done?’ Crystal sighed.

Roger gave him an injured look. ‘What makes you think I’ve done something?’ 

Crystal snorted. ‘Er.. I’ve met you?’

Roger pouted. ‘I’ve sort of invited Phoebe to your little party on the first Sunday in January.’

Crystal’s stomach turned a somersault. Out of all the things Roger might have done asking Phoebe to his party seemed simultaneously both the worst and the best thing. ‘Oh,’ was all he managed to say.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Roger was already turning to head back inside.

‘No, of course not,’ Crystal croaked. He minded. He minded because he would probably become a babbling idiot when talking to Phoebe and make an utter fool of himself. He minded because the prospect of spending time with Phoebe raised a little flutter of hope within him which was almost certainly doomed to be cruelly extinguished. He was pretty sure that in the unlikely event that Phoebe ever thought about him at all it was only briefly and only ever because they shared a joint employee in Roger. Phoebe barely knew he existed and even if he did he would hardly want a relationship with him.

Crystal suddenly wondered with growing horror if Roger had realised that he had a crush on Phoebe and was trying to match-make. And if Roger had realised did that mean it was plain to everyone?

He told himself firmly that Roger had simply innocently mentioned the party to his other boss. He was reading too much into it.

He really hoped he was reading too much into it.

*

Roger flopped on to his bed and Cat curled up beside him purring. Roger buried his face in her fur. ‘I’m so tired,’ he groaned.

Cat surveyed him. He had a nasty scratch on his face, small twigs entangled in his hair and his clothes were ripped. Cat hoped he was going to shower and change before he fell asleep: he didn’t smell all that wonderful at the moment. She gently pawed his uninjured cheek in the hope that he would take the hint. She was pleased when he groaned and rolled off bed, muttering that he knew he’d feel better if he freshened up. Cat purred, satisfied that she had trained her human well.

*

It was pouring with rain on the first Sunday in January. Phoebe arrived at Roger’s house under cover of a large black umbrella. Roger pulled him inside, ‘Hi, Phoebs! You look gorgeous!’ 

Phoebe reflected that it had certainly taken him long enough to get ready so he hoped he did look his best. It was silly, really, because it wasn’t as if Crystal would look at him twice. He pulled Roger into a warm hug, murmuring that he didn’t eat enough. He thought Roger also looked as if he hadn’t slept for months. 

‘Shall we dance, then?’ Roger beamed, picking up a carrier bag that appeared to have bottles of alcohol in it and plucking his rainbow striped umbrella from the umbrella stand by the door. He paused to stroke Cat’s head as she weaved around his ankles. ‘I’ll be back later, Cat.’ 

*

Crystal opened the front door as Roger and Phoebe approached it. He mentally kicked himself: could he have made it more obvious that he had been watching out for them. ‘Come in out of the rain!’ His stomach flipped as Phoebe brushed his arm as he entered the house. Roger looked like shit, Crystal thought, pulling him into a hug. ‘Hey, Waif,’ he murmured. He frowned as Roger thrust a clanking bag towards him. ‘What’s all this, then? You didn’t have to bring booze.’

‘I wasn’t sure if you would have the ingredients for your favourite cocktail,’ Roger explained, ‘so I brought them.’

‘You’re here to have fun, not to work,’ Crystal told him firmly, ‘although I won’t refuse a cocktail.’

He took Roger’s coat then Phoebe’s, leaving Roger with the carrier bag. As he took Phoebe’s coat he treated himself to giving Phoebe a quick hug. He ruffled Roger’s hair. ‘Why don’t you take that,’ he indicated the carrier bag, ‘into the kitchen, where there’s a little surprise for you.’ He smiled at Phoebe, ‘and if you come with me, I’ll just find a space for your coats and then I’ll get you a drink.’ 

*

Roger wondered what his surprise could possibly be as he headed for the kitchen. He usually loved parties but tonight he felt a bit flat. He missed John and he was tired after working extra shifts over the festive period. He would have happily remained in his own house curled up cosily with Cat. 

Still, he was here now and he needed to complete his mission to get Crystal and Phoebe together. He wondered where would be the best place to hang the mistletoe.

He contemplated hanging the mistletoe over the door as he reached the kitchen, if that was where people would be going for drinks. As he paused in the doorway a voice said, ‘Who have you been fighting with?’ 

Roger whirled round. ‘John!’ He set down the bag and launched himself into John’s arms. ‘Oh!’ He enthusiastically kissed John. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Crystal said he was sick of you moping,’ John explained, ‘and Brian is much better, so here I am. Happy New Year.’

‘Oh, it is now!’ Roger agreed.

John ran his finger along the scratched bruised place on Roger’s cheek. ‘Who have you been fighting with?’ he repeated. ‘Who hurt you?’ He would murder them, whoever they were. 

‘Oh, I fell out of the apple tree in Phoebe’s garden when I was gathering mistletoe.’ Roger explained. ‘Where do you think I should hang it?’ 

‘That might depend on who you want to kiss!’

Roger laughed. ‘Oh, I only want to kiss you! I’m trying to get Phoebe and Crystal to kiss.’

‘Phoebe and Crystal,’ John echoed, looking puzzled, ‘in an ‘opposites attract’ sort of way?’

Roger shrugged. ‘They like each other. They talk about each other all the time. Neither of them seems likely to do anything about it any time soon, though and I thought this would be a good opportunity to kind of force the issue.’

John considered this. ‘They just seem so...different,’ he noted, ‘Phoebe’s so cuddly and Crystal is...’ He gave up trying to find one word that would adequately sum up Crystal. Maybe Crystal craved cuddles. ‘Roger, you do know you can buy artificial mistletoe? There was no need for you to climb a tree,’ he added, frowning as he considered an unsupervised Roger falling out of a tree.

Roger looked at him as if he was mad. ‘It grows free in Phoebe’s apple tree! Why would I buy some? That isn’t very sustainable or environmentally friendly of you John!’

John supposed that was true but he was fighting the part of himself that wanted to make Roger promise never to climb a tree (or anything else) again without having someone with him; preferably someone sensible. ‘I just don’t like to think of you getting hurt,’ he explained. 

Roger kissed his cheek. ‘It’s just a scrape. Anyway, I think it needs to be real mistletoe for the romantic kiss to work properly.’

John grinned. ‘I’ve missed you.’ He slid his arms around Roger’s waist. ‘Where are we going to put it, then? Where are they likely to be at the same time?’ 

*

‘What’s Roger’s surprise?’ Phoebe asked as he followed Crystal into a crowded room. Crystal steered him over to a table in the corner of the room which held a vast selection of alcohol. 

‘John’s here,’ Crystal told him, ‘he arrived this morning. I just couldn’t stand Roger’s sad little face any longer.’ He smiled at Phoebe, ‘What would you like to drink? Something sweet, maybe...’ He shook his head, ‘Sorry, you can have anything you like, of course. I’ve fallen into Roger’s habit of trying to match people with drinks.’ 

‘Oh, I do that with cakes,’ Phoebe admitted, then blushed: honestly, could he sound any more stupid?

‘Phoebe is a Cherry Bakewell cocktail,’ Roger informed Crystal, arriving at their side, towing John by the hand. He plonked the bag of booze he’d brought down on the table. ‘I’ll mix it for you.’ He kissed Crystal’s cheek, ‘Thank you so much for my surprise!’

*

It was a party of beautifully dressed people sipping cocktails and murmuring amusing anecdotes to each other to a background of jazz. Roger supposed people were only capable of genteel socialising after more raucous jollity over the Christmas and New Year period. Most people did seem to be drinking alcohol rather than suffering a dry January, which Roger approved of: January was no month to be sober.

‘Your friends are all very posh,’ Roger remarked to Crystal, handing him another drink. He had remained canoodling in the corner with John, making cocktails for guests who strayed over to the drinks table.

Crystal laughed, ‘Yeah, it’s all very polite, isn’t it? They’re not always like this.’ He sipped his drink, ‘You know, you don’t have to keep making drinks, Rog.’

‘You know that I like guessing what cocktail belongs to which person,’ Roger shrugged. 

‘Yeah, well, just as long as you know I’m not gonna pay you!’

*

Roger had begun to despair of getting Crystal and Phoebe under the mistletoe. Perhaps he’d have to resort to getting Crystal to join Phoebe’s book club after all. ‘It’s difficult,’ he told John with a sigh, ‘because Phoebe is all early morning cafe and bakery and Crystal is all late nights behind the bar.’

They’d hung the mistletoe above the drinks table. They just needed Crystal and Phoebe to require alcohol at the same time. 

John nudged him. ‘Roger, they’re both heading over.’

Roger beamed at them, ‘Would you like the same again, gentlemen?’ 

Phoebe looked uncertain. ‘It’s getting late, I might head home...’

‘One for the road, then,’ Roger suggested, reaching for a bottle. ‘Oh, look: you and Crystal are under the mistletoe! A kiss is compulsory!’

Crystal looked confused. John could sympathise with him. ‘What mistletoe?’ Crystal asked.

Phoebe looked up and saw the mistletoe dangling above their heads. He glanced at Roger who mouthed ‘go on’ at him.

Phoebe stepped closer to Crystal, inhaling the warm sandalwood scent of him. He reached out and cupped Crystal’s face in his hands, bringing his lips to rest on Crystal’s.

*

Roger held his breath.

*

Crystal returned Phoebe’s kiss fiercely. He gasped as they broke apart.

*

Roger exhaled. ‘Finally,’ he breathed.

*

Crystal glanced at him then shrugged. He placed his hands on Phoebe’s waist. ‘You’re still under the mistletoe,’ he noted.

‘So I am,’ Phoebe agreed.

They kissed again.

*

Roger mixed their drinks and handed them their glasses when they broke apart again. ‘Thank you,’ Phoebe said.

‘Did you plan this, Waif?’ Crystal wondered. 

‘I had to do something,’ Roger told him, ‘I could see you two pining for each other and not taking any action yourselves.’

Crystal blushed. ‘I suppose I should thank you,’ he muttered. 

‘You’re welcome,’ Roger grinned, ‘both of you.’

*

It was still raining as John and Roger walked back to Roger’s house, both huddled under Roger’s rainbow umbrella. ‘That puddle that forms at the end of your street will be huge tomorrow,’ John remarked, ‘you’ll be able to put lots of ducks in it.’

Roger smiled at John’s reference to his habit of floating toy ducks in the puddle at the end of the road, to cheer people up on rainy days. ‘You can choose which ducks, if you’d like,’ Roger offered.

‘I’ve got a new duck for you,’ John told him. He had meant to keep it as a surprise for the morning but found that he was greedy for Roger’s excitement now.

‘A new duck,’ Roger’s eyes lit up.

Once they had reached the house and Roger had made a fuss of Cat and John had made tea he gave Roger the gift-wrapped box containing his new toy duck. ‘Oh!’ Roger’s eyes widened. ‘A unicorn duck,’ he smiled. The duck was mainly white with a gold horn protruding from its forehead, a rainbow striped mane on its head and painted-on eyes with long eyelashes. ‘I love it!’

‘What are you going to call it?’ John wondered, sipping his tea.

Roger considered this. ‘Mistletoe, I think,’ he decided, ‘as she’s mostly white and,’ he smiled at John, ‘it’s a night for love and kisses.’


End file.
